Songbird

by PaulAsaran

Chapter VI

“Twilight?” Celestia took a cautious step closer to her. “What happened to you?”

Her beloved student blinked, and her eyes returned to normal. Yet this didn’t help her appearance: mane wild, body shaking from hoof to ear tip, and shadowy tendrils swirling about her body like writhing snakes. Twilight dropped to her knees and heaved a shuddering breath. “I f-feel wrong. Celestia… please…”

What in the wide world of Equestria? The shadows were like… like parasites. The sight of them crawling along Twilight’s coat sent chills across the whole of Celestia’s body. She had to stop them. Whatever they were doing, she would save her student! Horn shining bright, she hurried to Twilight.

That alone was enough. The air flew from her lungs when the squirming blackness fled Twilight’s body and the brilliant light of Celestia's magic. With an echoing gasp, Twilight leapt forward, kicking a hind leg as if to shake off the last of the darkness. She turned to look at the black, shoulders swaying with her slow breaths. “They’re gone?”

“Only keeping their distance.” Celestia paused beside her and studied Twilight, checking for injuries or signs that the shadow remained connected somehow. Twilight’s cheek turned a bright pink, but she said nothing under Celestia’s scrutiny.

Although not convinced of Twilight’s safety, Celestia finished her examination and stepped back. “Twilight, what are you doing out here?”

“I don’t know.” Twilight scanned their surroundings, ears flat against her skull and shoulders hunched. “You left and I got worried. I c-can feel something inside me. It’s like I’m always being watched, but… but from the inside.” She met Celestia’s gaze with glassy eyes and a trembling chin. “I’m sorry about what happened. I’m sorry. I knew it was wrong but I… I couldn’t…”

What happened? Celestia realized that, yes, something did happen between them. But what? That damnable fog had rolled back over her mind while she’d been busy with Dova. Even with it marring her memories, however, Celestia knew that there was something between her student and herself now, something that made her hesitate to put her wing around Twilight’s shoulder.

Twilight, head bowed, raised her eyes to Celestia. “There’s something wrong with me. Right?”

Celestia considered the question and all she knew. Admittedly, it wasn’t much. Something wanted her to go back to Canterlot and abandon this… quest? Whatever it was. It didn’t want her to regain her memories, and it seemed to have a varied arsenal. An arsenal, she realized, that Twilight may be a part of. She leveled her gaze upon her student, who couldn’t return the look. “You didn’t answer my question, Twilight. How did you come to be here?”

“I don’t know,” Twilight repeated. She spoke slowly, carefully, as if picking over each word. “I just… did. I remember wanting to be with you, wanting to apologize. I was scared that you were angry, and also because I felt like I’d been… forced to do things. So I started walking. I don’t know how, but I knew which way to go.” She paused, brow furrowed. She stared at the ground for some time, her jaw working in a slow, rotating motion as she ruminated.

“It’s all a blur since the archives.” Twilight looked up to Celestia, lips pursed. “There’s something wrong with me.”

It was possible, but Celestia found herself doubting the suggestion. She recalled the shadows clinging to her student like a parasite, and the memory made her shiver. Turning her head, she examined the bare trees and dried grass of the forest. It all appeared so ominous, much more so than it had before. And still the darkness wriggled beyond the light of her horn. Such disturbing behavior…

“No, Twilight.” Celestia forced her lips into a reassuring smile. “I don’t think there is anything wrong with you.”

Twilight shuffled her hooves, ears rising only slightly. Her quiet “Really?” was underscored by clear doubt.

Overcoming her anxiety, Celestia wrapped a wing about her prized student. “Really. It is not you or I who are ‘wrong’. Rather, I believe it is the… world.” She didn’t blame Twilight for her confused frown. It did sound silly, didn’t it? “I don’t believe this is Equestria. Not anymore, at least.”

Twilight bowed her head, face scrunched up, but only for a second. “If we’re no longer in Equestria, then where are we? How did we get here?”

“I do not know.” She scanned the trees, looking for a familiar sight. There, the nightingale. It stood upon a branch, watching them with a curious tilt of its head. “But I know something that might.”

Upon sighting the bird, Twilight scowled. “Isn’t that the same nightingale that wouldn’t stop bugging you before bed?”

“Indeed.” Celestia didn’t remember what Twilight was referring to, but it felt true, and that had to stand for something. “I believe it is guiding me to an answer. I must keep following it.” She stepped away from Twilight, retracting her wing as she did. Turning to face her student properly, Celestia spoke in her practiced lecturer’s tone. “I have already encountered two guardians in these woods. It is likely that this path is a dangerous one. If you would join me, Twilight, I would not stop you, but I ask that you consider the threat seriously before making a decision.”

Standing tall, Twilight matched her gaze with an expression of utmost seriousness. “No danger will keep me from helping, Celestia.”

“You are certain?” At Twilight’s nod, Celestia smiled. “Very well. I must admit, it brings me comfort to know I won’t be alone.”

Twilight beamed up at her, only to cringe. For the briefest moment, her eyes lost their color, becoming almost grey, and Twilight wobbled in place. Celestia’s pulse increased and she took a step closer, but before she could act the effects passed and Twilight stood tall once more, though her face held a grimace.

Celestia examined her student, but could find no sign of alternation or damage. “Are you alright?”

“Y-yeah.” Twilight shook as if a chill wind had blown across her back. “Whatever it was, it’s gone now.”

As much as Celestia wished to press the issue, the calling of the nightingale reminded her that they were on a mission. “Come, we must go. But do inform me if you feel it again.”

They resumed the journey through the woods, the nightingale weaving and bobbing in the air ahead. Its motions were swift and darting, and Celestia had the distinct impression it was trying to hurry them along. But she wouldn’t move with haste, largely because she could see a weariness in Twilight’s steps and did not wish to burden her student. After all, she’d gone from Canterlot Castle to this strange place in… how long had it been?

Only now did she realize that the world was still engulfed in night. Pursing her lips, Celestia tried to gauge the time. Normally this would be an easy task, but now?

Her conversation with her parents returned to her like a tidal wave. She’d not raised the sun in so long. Had somepony taken over that duty? If this wasn’t Equestria, then perhaps it didn’t matter. Celestia could be certain of nothing. For the sake of her own comfort, she reached out to her beloved charge.

A warmth bloomed within her. But it wasn’t the soothing touch of a distant sun she had long been accustomed to. No, this was a cascading heat, a fire that engulfed her! Celestia’s body went stiff as she took in the blaze, too startled by the onslaught to move on. This… this was wrong. Everything was wrong!

Celestia did not burn. Indeed, she did not feel any pain from the touch of the sun. And yet the energy filled her to the point of nearly overwhelming her control. She kept it trapped with her magic, but only barely, and if she released it incorrectly…

“Princess?”

The connection broke as might a rope pulled too taught, and Celestia was left with naught but a deep, icy chill. Unsteady on her hooves, she looked to Twilight, who watched her with wide eyes. “Y-yes?”

“Are you okay?” Twilight peered at her. “Your eyes were yellow for a moment, like when you’re channeling powerful magic.”

“It is nothing. Just testing myself in preparation for what may come.” It wouldn’t do to worry her. Fortunately, she seemed to accept this explanation. As they followed the eager song of the nightingale, Celestia pondered the meaning of her latest discovery. There’d been so much energy in that faint touch. The sun had never reacted to her in such a way. Worse, she’d not been able to pinpoint its location. But how could that be?

She could still draw strength from it. She would have to be cautious and regulate the magic. If approached in the wrong way, that power may well destroy the entire forest, to say nothing of Twilight and their feathered guide. If only she could grasp why the sun was behaving so strangely. She didn’t dare attempt to raise it under these circumstances. If it filled her with so much energy, what would it do to the landscape?

“You said there were guardians.” Twilight warily eyed the ever-shifting shadows. “Guardians of what?”

Another conundrum. Celestia wondered how to explain her situation to Twilight without sounding like a madmare. Her lack of ideas failed to encourage.

No, wait. She shook her head, hoping to clear it. A trickling fear made itself known as she struggled to recall all the circumstances. She remembered Starswirl and Dova clearly; it seemed having ‘dealt with’ them had fortified her memories of them against the creeping fog of her mind. She knew she’d had some strange encounter with her parents, had made a great revelation. But… what revelation?

Now that she really thought on it, Celestia couldn’t remember entering this forest. Oh, she remembered why, the nightingale dancing in the air of ahead of them made certain of that. But the act of arriving, of first setting hoof into this place? Lost in the shadows.

“Princess?”

“I apologize.” Celestia cast aside her meandering worries to give Twilight what she hoped was a soothing smile. “I’m just a little distracted.”

Her student flinched and glanced away. “Am I being a bother?”

With a cluck of her tongue, Celestia shook her head. “None of that, my little pony. You are never a bother. No, what distracts me is our situation.” Her focus returned to the path ahead, but of the next guardian she saw no sign. “I…” Again, how to phrase this? “It has become clear that somepony has tampered with my mind.” Celestia held her breath as she watched Twilight out the corner of her eye.

But rather than a brow furrowed in doubt, she saw pupils shrinking and ears folding back. Twilight licked her lips before whispering, “Then it’s happening to both of us?”

Both…?

Of course, Twilight was having issues of her own, wasn’t she? She’d be more inclined to believe Celestia, given the things she’d already described. She felt a little guilty taking extra comfort in their similar experiences. Pushing that thought down, she tried another encouraging smile. “It’s alright, Twilight. We’ll solve this. Together.”

Though her hunched posture betrayed her worry, Twilight at least returned the smile. Her cheeks lit up for a moment, but the mysterious embarrassment faded when she looked ahead. “Celestia?”

Celestia followed her student’s gaze, blinking at a curious sight. It seemed somepony had bothered to place a large table in the middle of the forest, complete with three chairs. Except the proximity was too close. Shouldn’t she have seen it earlier?

As they approached, the nightingale landed in the center of the table. It cooed at them and preened until they arrived, at which point it flew up into the trees. Celestia followed its path, only to pause when something appeared at the edge of her vision. Her heart sank at the sight of a mane like the sea and a coat of midnight blue. She closed her eyes and tried to ignore the knife piercing her heart.

“So,” she softly spoke, “you are the next guardian.”

Her father’s voice was contemplative. Curious. “Is that what you wish to call me? I remember a time when I was ‘Papa’.”

Twilight gasped, and when Celestia looked down she found her student prostrate, muzzle down in the dry grass. “Your Majesty! It’s an honor to meet you again.”

He smiled at Twilight’s display. “Twilight Sparkle. Always a pleasure to speak with a prodigal pony such as yourself. Won’t you join your mentor and me in our little discussion?”

Grinning from ear to ear, Twilight hurried to the left chair. As soon as she’d settled, she looked to Celestia. Her eagerness faded almost immediately. “What’s wrong, Princess?”

The fact she didn’t know only made Celestia hesitate more. She looked to her father, his form fading in his seat so that she saw nothing but a faint shifting of the light. It was even less appealing with the black writhing behind him. It appeared almost as if her father had been absorbed by the darkness itself. Despite her discomfort, she slowly settled herself in the seat beside Twilight.

“It appears we’re all here,” her father said, voice light and jovial. “What’s the matter, Celestia? I thought you’d be happy to see me.”

Celestia tensed. She could feel his eyes on her, and those of Twilight. “Do not act so familiar with me, creature. You are not my father.”

Another gasp from Twilight. “P-Princess! How could you say such a thing?”

“Not your father?” He chuckled, the sound eerie in absence of a visible mouth to apply it to. “That’s not very nice. What would your mother think?”

Celestia rustled her wings and glared where she knew her father’s face would be. “Do not play games with me. My father disappeared long ago, lost to the unknown wilderness beyond Equestria’s borders. You dishonor him with your deceptions.”

To this he offered no answer. Was he upset? Annoyed? Smug? She would not be able to tell without looking away, but she refused to do that. She had to demonstrate her will, her determination, and she couldn’t do that by looking away. Her real father had taught her that. She was only glad Twilight had the sense to keep quiet as well.

At last, the thing posing as her father spoke. “You don’t have to do this. It will only lead to pain.”

Curse him, he knew exactly how to mimic her father’s concerned tone. “I am willing to face the pain.”

He clucked his tongue. It sounded disturbingly similar to how she’d done it towards Twilight earlier. “You’re gambling, child, and poorly. You do not even know what reward you may gain from facing this, or even if there is one at all.”

“I have already gained much from facing your predecessors,” Celestia replied calmly. “What do you hope to gain by sealing my memories away? I won’t let you distract me from getting them back.”

“You should.” Her father sighed. “Please, my child. There is no need for this suffering. We can return to Canterlot, return to peace and tranquility. Isn’t that what you’ve been fighting for all these centuries?”

Twilight at last dared to speak up. “It’s true, isn’t it?” She flinched when Celestia turned a peering gaze upon her. “I m-mean, weren’t we happy? Equestria is at peace now, thanks to you. Risking yourself is risking that peace. I think.”

“Well said, Miss Sparkle.”

Celestia wanted to snap at her student, but she held the urge back. Twilight had the right to voice her opinion, even if it didn’t help matters. Lips tightly closed, Celestia took this opportunity to study her father’s face. As kind and pleasant as ever. He was either completely confident in his ability to convince her to turn around, or it was a mask. Knowing her father’s skills, it could very well be the former.

Except this isn’t my father. She turned to face him once more. “How can I trust a doppelganger? I do not see peace. I see blinders set upon me, keeping me from knowing the truth.”

“Truth is in the eye of the beholder.”

She smirked. “My father would never use such a tired cliché.”

“Does that make it any less accurate?”

“No.” She leaned closer, studying his faint outline. “It does confirm my beliefs, however. You’re naught but a puppet, a clever illusion conjured up to distract me from the truth. I will know what is missing, and I will save Equestria.”

“If that is how you feel, why not just blast me with your magic and be done with it?”

Indeed, why not? This wasn’t her father, and she should feel no shame for dealing with him directly. For all she knew, this entire conversation was nothing more than a distraction. She could wipe him out with but a flash of her horn! In fact…

“Princess?” Twilight shifted back from her glance. “Y-you’re not really going to try to attack your own father, are you?”

That frustratingly familiar voice spoke up, as calm and in control as ever. “Yes, child. Are you?”

The smug bastard! He might not be her father, but he still had a damned smart tongue. And yet, as she stared at Twilight’s frightened eyes, she wondered what would happen. Her thoughts drifted to Dova and Starswirl. She hadn’t solved those problems with violence, had she? And besides, there’d been enough of that in her lifetime. She closed her eyes and recalled flying over great battlements, raining sunfire down upon her hapless victims. Their screams, long forgotten in the fog of her mind, now haunted her with their intensity.

At last, she turned back to her father. “I won’t.” Twilight sagged with visible relief out the corner of her eye, but there could be no determining her father’s reaction. “But I tire of these games. I know you have what I need, and I must do… something.” It only now dawned upon her that she had no idea what that something was.

As if reading her thoughts, he said, “Oh, it’s simple, really, and also quite impossible. You need only accept that this is your fault to begin with.”

Celestia blinked. Blinked again. “What is my fault?”

The cheer in his voice was like nails on a chalkboard. “And thus you see the impossibility.”

“Wait.” Twilight’s face scrunched up in an unpleasant frown. “How can the Princess claim responsibility for things she doesn’t remember?”

“Then let’s focus on what I do remember.” Celestia scowled at the swirling shadows behind her father’s barely discernible form. “I remember not taking Starswirl’s warnings seriously. I remember invading Grypha. I remember killing more griffons than I could hope to count, including my friend Dova.” The ease with which she said such things unnerved her, and she took a moment to consider her feelings on them. The guilt was undeniably present, but it was a shadow of a pain, a distant feeling. Though return of the memory had struck her as a fresh blow, now…

She looked to her father. “Those events. They happened a long time ago, didn’t they?” No answer was offered, which she took as a confirmation. “And they are not what you are referring to.”

“And how would you know that, my child?”

Celestia’s ear flicked. Her hackles rose. Still, she kept her calm. “Let’s just say I do and leave it at that.”

“That’s not even close to a strong defense.”

A small, knowing smile graced her lips. “It doesn’t have to be. You taught me that.”

Nothing. Hesitation, perhaps? Celestia wished she could see his face, a sentiment undoubtedly shared by many a diplomat and ambassador over the centuries. Perhaps he didn’t remember his own lessons. It was a stretch of a guess, but if accurate then it would mean whatever pulled his strings only had a limited knowledge of her and her family.

And once again, she recalled the truth: this wasn’t her father. She’d almost forgotten.

Twilight perked up. “The changelings. Maybe it has to do with them.” No sooner had she said it than she flinched and rubbed at her head.

Celestia leaned towards her. “Are you alright?”

Her grimace fading to the focused, attentive expression typical for their lectures, Twilight sat up straight and nodded. “Yes. Just a little headache. Nothing too serious.”

Celestia’s father spoke with concern. “Would you like to be excused?”

The words caught Celestia’s attention, and in her peripheral vision she noted how his eyes were focused more on herself than Twilight. Father never allowed a delegate to walk away for something so simple. This really is a distraction. She turned back to him, maintaining a neutral expression. “It does have to do with the changelings.”

She picked up the sound of him shifting in his seat. It was a blatant giveaway of his anxiety, and a mistake her real father never would have made. “I know you’re eager to support your bright young student,” he said, “but there’s no need to adopt her wild, spur-of-the-moment theories.”

“I don’t think they are so wild,” Celestia countered. “It was right after defeating Chrysalis that the problems started. My mind is muddled, but I at least recall that much.”

“So you rush to blame changelings, the original enemy.”

“No.” She shook her head, using the opportunity to catch brief glimpses of his face. His stiffened posture and alert ears signaled the frustration his ever-patient voice concealed. “I don’t think the changelings are the problem.”

It was Twilight who asked, “Then what is?”

Such an obvious question, yet Celestia had no answer. It would be easy to point to her father, but that didn’t solve the problem. Her father wasn’t in her head. He wasn’t making her forget her purpose, at least not directly. He was only a puppet. A puppet for…

Her eyes fell upon the faintly visible illusion, the waver of light that hid him from the eyes so easily. No, not him. But beyond him?

The shadows seethed and writhed.

Wings tense, Celestia barely kept her magic in check as she leaned forward. “Show me your face.”

There came a slow exhalation from the nebulous fake. “You know I can’t do that.”

Just holding back a growl, she snapped, “Yes, you can. You are not him.”

“I am here.”

“But you’re not him.”

“You misunderstand. Maybe I’m not your father, but I am your father here.”

Her horseshoes bit into the wood of the table as she grimaced. “And where, exactly, is here?”

Twilight offered a timid, “The Everfree Forest?”

She rounded upon her student. “It’s not that simple. None of this is!” Any other words were blocked by her throat as Twilight cowered back. Biting down a curse, she took a moment to calm that miniature sun in her mind. Gradually, she sat in her seat once more. “I apologize, Twilight.”

Though her ears remained flat against her skull, Twilight nodded. “I-it’s okay, Princess. I’m sorry I said something so silly.”

Silly? “No, Twilight. I’m glad that you’re… helping…”

An urge had come over her, a sudden and inexplicable desire to comfort Twilight and bring her home. She didn’t need to be out here, not in her condition, and she certainly wasn’t ready to face a debate with Celestia’s father. It would be many years before she—

“No.” She glared at nothing, keeping her father’s calm expression in the corner of her eye. “This is another distraction.”

Her father sniffed derisively. “If you are so cruel as to think your own student a distraction, I fear for—”

“This entire conversation. One big distraction.” Celestia watched him. He watched back. The tension had returned to his shoulders. “What was it you said? That I must accept responsibility. Why haven’t we touched on that topic since?”

His eyes narrowed. “Maybe you were reluctant to broach the subject.”

“Or you’re dodging.”

It took a moment for him to respond. She found him a million times more transparent than her father had ever been… in a manner of speaking. He finally regained control of his fidgeting and smiled. “You just don’t want to accept your guilt.”

“I’d have to be guilty of something to do that.”

His jaw clenched. At last, a sign of emotion. It was enough to give Celestia a proper theory… and a course of action. She finally turned to face him properly, letting his illusion return. “You keep saying it is my fault, but not what is my fault. I don’t think I’ve done anything wrong.”

“No?”

The heat in his tone was delectable. Celestia turned her muzzle up, affecting the haughtiest manner she could as she spoke. “I am Princess Celestia, Bringer of the Dawn. I am flawless.” Out the corner of her eye, she noticed Twilight gawking at her. “I do not make mistakes.”

The illusion shifted, roiling like steam from a bubbling cauldron. Her father had never done that either, even in anger. “Flawless? You really think that?”

“Of course I do.” She flicked a hoof across her foreleg as if to rid it of dirt. “To think anything less? Why, I’m tempted to call that treason.”

“B-but, Princess.” Upon being the target of Celestia’s gaze, Twilight ducked her head and closed her eyes. “W-what about the war with the griffons?”

Celestia sniffed and turned back to her ‘father’. “What about it?”

The entity snarled, and the table shook with what she imaged were his stamping forehooves. “You haven’t changed at all, have you? If anything, you’ve gotten worse!”

An impatient roll of the eyes. “And you still haven’t told me what I’m supposed to be regretting. I must admit, I’m curious what fanciful dream you’ve conjured in your simple mind. What flaw do I have?”

“What flaw? What flaw?”

The façade broke at last, the veil of illusion fading to show… a creature? Celestia stared in bafflement at a being that appeared to be made entirely of darkness and smoke. The cloudy black swirled about as if in a storm, yet somehow maintained a near-perfect form of a pony. The shadow pony twisted and squirmed and snarled from an unseen mouth, tossing its chair away in its rage.

Its voice became a mangled scream, the barest brutal mimicry of her father’s. “You will never escape, Celestia! You do not deserve Equestria! I try to give you paradise and you reject it like the spoiled foal you are!”

Celestia stood from her seat, facing the entity with horn flaring. A quick push of her magic knocked Twilight away from the scene. “What are you?”

“I am your better! I am your superior! I—”

“You are nothing!” Another flash of magic, and the table was wrenched aside, leaving only air between her and the monster. “You are but a single toy in a much bigger scheme. What controls you? Answer!”

“I do not answer to wretched royal refuse.” The shadow pony lost its form for a moment, its raging clouds breaking free only to be reeled back in. “Your time is over! We will deliver Equestria to a new age of—!”

The fiend shrieked as a ray of pure sunlight pierced its body. It spread wide like a cloud, but rapidly regained its pony shape. It had lost some of its stature, appearing smaller than before.

Celestia looked down upon it with a grimace. “Answer my question, creature, or I shall end you.”

The creature hissed, lowering its front in an aggressive pose. “Such a wonderful negotiator you are, Celestia. I’m sure your father would be proud to see you resorting to—”

Another shot, another shriek. She waited for it to reform, once more only a fraction of its previous size. “Enough stalling. Answer me!”

Instead, the creature erupted into a great cloud that swept across the forest in every direction. It disappeared faster than she could react, and Celestia cursed under her breath. She scanned her surroundings, but found only the familiar movement of the forest shadows. They had grown even more dense since the start of the conversation, and they writhed about as if angry at her actions. Now more than ever, Celestia knew she was on the right path.

“P-Princess…”

The frail sound caught her attention. Twilight lay in a ball, arms wrapped about her stomach as she trembled. The sight burned Celestia’s heart, and she hurried to Twilight’s side. Lowering to nuzzle her student behind the ear, she asked, “What is wrong?”

Only then did she notice the black. It wasn’t like the shadows, but instead appeared as though Twilight’s very coat was shifting in hues. Portions of her body were now as dark as pitch. The edges where shadow met violet writhed and squirmed, and Celestia had the distinct impression something was trying to possess her student.

Twilight managed to force an eye open. Celestia recoiled at the sight of a brilliant yellow iris.

“I don’t want to!” Twilight clenched her eyes closed once more. “Th-that’s not me. That’s not me. That’s not me!”

“Begone!” Celestia called upon her magic, illuminating the forest in golden light that would have blinded the average pony. But Celestia was anything but average, and as Twilight shrieked, she watched the darkness fade from her student’s body. It departed via her hind hooves, darting across the dry earth to disappear behind the withered, barren trees.

As soon as the last mote of black had faded, Celestia ended the spell and pulled the sobbing Twilight close. “It’s okay, Twilight. It’s gone. I’ve got you.”

Twilight clutched Celestia close, gradually recovering from her momentary ordeal. Celestia had to wonder just what the shadows wanted with her. Now that she thought on it, this was the second time they’d tried something like this. Why? What was so important about Twilight Sparkle that they felt the need to attack her?

Twilight mumbled something between hiccups, and Celestia put her ponderings aside. “What was that?”

Looking up at her with tearstained cheeks, Twilight muttered, “I’m not real.”

Not real? Celestia brushed her student’s frazzled mane back from her face. “I don’t understand.”

“I’m not real,” Twilight repeated, her hold on Celestia tightening. “I s-saw it when you cast your spell. I’m… I’m a fake. A puppet! I’m not supposed to exist, but th-they needed a… a…”

Sighing, Celestia pressed her forehead to Twilight’s. “Hush, now. You are real, Twilight. As real as I am. They were only trying to deceive you.”

“But what if it’s true? What if I only exist to keep you occupied?”

“That’s not true, and I think you belittle your own value by giving the thought any credence.” Tipping Twilight’s chin up with a hoof, Celestia met her gaze and smiled. “You are real, you are not a burden, and I am glad that you’ve come with me.”

Twilight’s ears perked, her frown fading just a bit. “Really? Y-you mean it?”

“I mean it.”

“You won’t… send me away?”

The idea flitted across her mind. If this journey was going to be so traumatic, maybe Twilight did need to stay in Canterlot. Tears began anew at her silence, and Celestia realized she couldn’t do it. “No, Twilight. If you want to see this through to the end with me, then you should.”

Twilight sniffed, rubbed her eyes, and somehow managed a trembling smile. “Yes. Yes, please. I have to know. It’s the only way to be sure that I’m… that I’m not a fake.”

“You’re not a fake, Twilight. That I can assure you.”

But as Celestia held her close and set her chin atop Twilight’s head, she let her smile fade. Her eyes traced the darkness creeping back through the forest after her spell. It shifted and swayed and squirmed. She couldn’t possibly admit her doubts out loud.

Twilight wouldn’t be able to handle it.

Comments

[KorenCZ11]

>“I don’t know,” Twilight repeated.
This one is the dirtiest trick.

>“Your eyes were yellow for a moment,
D E C I E T

>“But what if it’s true? What if I only exist to keep you occupied?”
O O F.

Instead of my expected lust, which may very well come last, we received Celestia's Pride amid an effort to outwit the shadow with no name sombra. Of course, this could very well be another mislead away from the real antagonist which may very well be Discord. The possibility is there, and this just feels too obviously Sombra now. The biggest twist would be neither and maybe a possibility I'm not considering here, but some of the other possibilities wouldn't make sense simply in the given context. I might also be reading too deep into this and picking apart every line I can. I could swear there was a line that said 'ash-something' somewhere before the witch burning, but couldn't find it where I thought it was, so maybe I'm the one going crazy. Onward!